


The time Derek Hale's acting career was going down the drain, only it wasn't really

by vvindyvvillovv



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: And the Alpha's didn't even happen, Derek is a sucker for giving Cora what she wants, Erica is Derek's fame everything in life bc why not, Erica wants to out headline the Karashians, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Lydia is scary protective of her ickle Stiles, M/M, Only Boyd and Erica are A-OK, Peter is lurking in every corner, Student!Stiles, actor!derek, alpha!Derek, awkward hand holding, post season two, rating might possibly change idk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 01:53:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3156578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vvindyvvillovv/pseuds/vvindyvvillovv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had probably been the best thing to happen to him since… since forever.</p><p>That’s what the pack tells him anyway. For Derek, the life of a tragically successful A-List actor was nothing but a drag.</p><p>Never again will he stoop to the levels of betting against Peter Hale ever again, especially if this was the outcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever fic. It can only go downhill, really.

It had probably been the best thing to happen to him since… since forever.

That’s what the pack tells him anyway. For Derek, the life of a tragically successful A-List actor was nothing but a drag.

Never again will he stoop to the levels of betting against Peter Hale ever again, especially if this was the outcome.

For the past three years after the Kanima phenomenon, which included the resurrection of his _newly deceased uncle_ , Derek had been a save to the world of Hollywood. It was fathomable; the large checks he received were mouth-watering, no longer needing to squat in an abandoned train depot was fantastic, getting paid to read off multiple sheets of paper and put some fake emotion into it was fucking fantastic, even though he’d never admit it, but it was _everything else_ that was a massive burden.

The little to no privacy was rather gut-wrenching, especially round about the time when the media had just discovered that he was the one of four survivors of the Hale House fire. Explaining to the Beacon County Council that, in fact, Peter Hale had _not_ died was incredibly frustrating. Apparently ink on paper was more evidence than Derek’s word or, oh, the fact that the real life Peter Hale was standing in the court room himself.

The interviews are also another con. The fake smiles, forced laughs, sharing private details and _pretending to be interested_ _in what other people are saying_ is actually incredibly tiring. Erica, who had nominated herself as Derek’s manager, and well, _everything fame related_ , told him to think of it as a role. That Derek was playing the part of a happy-go-lucky famous man from a small town.

It didn’t work.

It was, essentially, a joke. But, having gotten a sister out of it (barely famous, younger, smaller and female version of Derek) it was a little less of a joke. But a joke nonetheless.

Cora was ecstatic that her older, grumpy brother was a _real life superstar_. Derek suspects that it may be because he has introduced her to a total of five celebrities so far, all of which she has been madly in love with for years. Not the most ideal way to rekindle their family bond, but it worked, so whatever.

“Derek.” Erica crooned, looking at him coyly from over the top of her sunglasses.  Derek rolled his eyes, not seeing the point on wearing sunglasses at ten past eight at night, _indoors_. “How nice of you to grace us with your superiority.” Erica continued, snuggling back into Boyd’s side, smirking at him boldly. Derek grunted and sat on the arm chair, looking at Erica with raised eyebrows. Erica rolled her eyes and cleared her throat. “As you are all aware,” she started “Derek, our lovely Alpha, family member, _lodger_ is going through a bit of a career dilemma.” Derek sat up straighter, looking at Erica with confusion. He wasn’t aware he had a _career dilemma_. “Derek has been in the shadows for a while now.” Derek slumped back into the armchair with a heavy eye roll. This definitely isn’t what he’d consider a dilemma. “The Kardashians are simply _refusing_ to share the spotlight.” Erica rose to her feet and placed her hands on her hips heatedly. “They _planned this_.” She seethed. “I’m telling you all. I’m fucking _calling it_. Khloe gets engaged and _pregnant_ during the same month? _I smell a rat._ ” Poor Scott, bless him, perked up and looked around. “ _A_ _hypothetical rat_.” Erica added, eyeing Scott. “At the beginning of the year, the tabloids were creaming themselves when they found out what soup brand Derek buys. But now? This week, there has not been a _single story_ about Derek. _It is our duty to change that_.” Derek could almost hear Lydia roll her eyes.

“What can _we_ do that would help Derek?” Stiles asked, his face screwing up tightly. “You are aware that the majority of us are hardworking college students, right? I can barely manage to stay up past ten PM, never mind help Derek get noticed again.” Erica spun around to look at Stiles with a terrifying glare, one that didn’t seem to sway Stiles in the slightest. “Maybe his career has run its course. Maybe, Erica, it’s time to put Derek’s sudden and rather bizarre claim to fame to bed.” Derek nodded enthusiastically as a low growl erupted from the back of Erica and Cora’s throats.

“He promised me Leonardo DiCaprio, Stilinski.” Cora said dangerously low. “You do _not_ want to get between Leo and I. _You really fucking don’t._ ” Stiles held his hands up in mock surrender, but Derek could smell the slight smear of fear and he could hear the slight spike in his heart rate as clear as day. Cora smirked victoriously to herself.

“ _Anyway_ , before Stiles so _rudely_ interrupted with his tragically horrific conspiracy theories, I have an idea.” Erica took her time to take a long pause, letting her eyes meet every sing persons in the room with a slightly terrifying glower. “Derek needs a lover.”

Derek almost choked on air, along with almost everyone else in the room. Boyd, the smug bastard, stayed where he was, nuzzled into the corner of the couch with a shit eating smirk. Erica had obviously run this idea past him, or possibly, the stroke of pure _evil_ came from him.

“I’m sorry,” Jackson wheezed through the computer screen, where he sat by Danny, “did you say _Derek needs a_ –“

“Yes.” Erica cut in sharply, turning to look at Derek with an innocent smile. “I did.”

“No.” Derek said quickly. “No. No way. What the _fuck_ Erica? I can’t just pick someone at random from the public and say, _oh, by the way, we’re now in a fake relationship so I can get my career back on top. Thank you for your services_.”

“You won’t have too.” Erica said breezily, not bothering to adapt on it. She fell back onto the sofa, resuming her place next to Boyd where she would, presumably, sit plastered at Boyd’s side until they made their way to bed.

“ _How_?” Derek said through gritted teeth.

“Oh, did I forget to mention?” Erica smirked. “You’ll be dating someone from the Pack. You already know them. Now, pick your new love interest, Hale. I want to get started tomorrow, no later.”

“No offence, but _no_.” Lydia said pointedly. Derek couldn’t help but take a little offence. “I’m not dumping Jackson to fake-date Derek. I don’t care how doomed his career is.” She continued snottily. Derek breathed a small sigh of relief; at least now Jackson wasn’t in the running.

“Okay. All couples can bow out, obviously.” Erica piped up “So, that means that Allison, Scott, Boyd, Lydia, Jackson and I are out. Peter, Cora, you two are out on the terms that you share blood. That would just be weird and give us the wrong type of publicity.” Erica ran her eyes over Derek. “While you are visually appealing, Derek, I really do not think that you are cut out for porn.” Derek bowed his head in a sarcastic nod. “So that just leaves us with Danny, Isaac and Stiles.” Erica grinned at Derek. “Choose wisely.”

“I can’t!” Isaac said loudly, looking at Erica with wide eyes. “People think that Cora and I are…” Isaac said  quietly, giving Erica a look that screamed ‘ _People think that Cora and I are screwing, because, well, we are!_ ’. Bless him for at least trying to be subtle.

“Oh- _kay_.” Erica said slowly. “So, Danny and Stiles.”

“I would do it happily.” Danny piped  up from the computer screen. Jackson gave him a disgusted look. “Unfortunately, with me being located in the UK, it’ll be hard. I really don’t think that tabloids will eat up a long distance relationship. Maybe next time though.”

All eyes fled to Stiles, looking at him expectantly. “Uh, I have terms and conditions.” Was the first thing Stiles managed to splutter out.

“No.” Derek said automatically.

“Copy that.” Erica said. “ _But_ being in a relationship means that the other half will buy you things.” Erica said, jiggling her bracelet about for emphasis.

“Does _car gas_ and _meals that are not minute noodles_ go under the category of _things_?”

“ _No_.” Erica shot Derek a cold glare.

“ _Yes_ , Stiles.” Erica said pointedly. “ _Yes it certainly does_.”

“Well.” Stiles started. He took a deep breath, offering Derek a small, hopeful smile. “I guess I should change my relationship status on Facebook, shouldn’t I?” The majority of the pack hooted loudly and annoyingly, throwing their arms up in the air or around either Stiles or Derek. Derek let his head fall into his hands before groaning softly.

“Hey!” Stiles crowed when Isaac snickered into his ear. “I’m saving your career, bud. You should be worshipping the ground I walk on.” Derek lifted his head up and met Stiles with a glare. “Or you could – _not_.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles’ hand was oddly both soft and rough at the same time. His fingers were bony, his hands were sweaty and Derek had a hard time not thinking off all the odd things Stiles would come out with about his self-pleasure dates (“Two fingers are actually fucking sore!”, “School is taking up so much time I haven’t been able to give myself some Stiles-loving in days.”) It was inappropriate and kind of made Derek want to cry over the fact he wasn’t feeling entirely repulsed by this. He had had dinner with this boy’s father! He had sat on his couch, drinking beer and watching baseball with Sheriff Stilinski as an enjoyable pass time. Derek felt dirty all over.

“Alright!” Erica said loudly, clasping her hands together. Her eyes flicked between Stiles and Derek a couple of times before she continued. “We need to go ahead with Phase One.” Erica turned on the PowerPoint – she was _very_ professional, thank you very much – that contained far too much moving pictures, cartoons and colours for Derek’s liking. For Stiles, though, he loved it, his back straightening as he cooed softly, which made Erica gleam.

_Phase One – **Be seen in public looking all cutesy and lovely.**_

“Are you sure he can handle them both at once?” Stiles asked lowly, completely failing at being subtle when he glanced in Derek’s direction. Derek wanted nothing more than to rub his face in Erica’s sparkly PowerPoint and show _just_ how lovely he could be. He then revaluated his want to physically hurt Stiles because that isn’t considered lovely in anyone’s eyes. Derek would just have to romance the shit out of him, the smug little shit.

“I have seen Derek smile and talk at the same time. _And really mean it_.” Erica said wistfully. “I think he can pull this together.”

Oh, Derek would fucking show _them_.

** **Phase One in Action** **

“Stiles, just hold my fucking hand.”

Stiles eyes flickered quickly down to Derek’s fingers before they moved suspiciously up to his eyes. “ _No_.” He said slowly. “I have been held against a wall by that _exact_ hand one too many times.”

“I’ve done that _once_.”

“I can’t trust them!” Stiles continued, throwing his own hands in the air dramatically. “I just can’t. It would go against everything I root for.”

“You can tell that to Erica, then. You can tell her that you don’t want to hold my hand because you’re _scared_.” Derek huffed snottily, tucking his extended hand away in his pocket.

“Your hands have _claws_.” Stiles said lowly, glancing around the empty street suspiciously. Derek could practically hear Stiles’ internal _walls have ears, gotta keep the werewolf mojo on the down low_. “Like, where do they even _go_?”

“I can place them in your eye sockets if you _really want to_ –“

“If this is your idea of _lovely_ and _cutesy_ then we are seriously fucked, dude.”  Stiles declared, pinching the bridge of his nose like _Derek was the fucking problem_.

“We’ve been fucked ever since you admitted that you’re scared of my hand, _dude_.”

“I never said I was _scared_.” Stiles replied, feeling a little more than miffed. And hell, even if he was, he had a perfectly reasonable excuse. Derek has freaking _claws_.

“Not outright, anyway.” Derek mumbled before turning to look up at the sky innocently.

“Oh! Oh, _that’s_ how you wanna play, huh? You wanna ay dirty? Well, _boy-o_ , I can show you just how fucking dirty I can be.” If you look close enough, you can actually see Derek’s insides die of embarrassment. “Give me your _god dammed hand_.” Stiles seethed, flinging his arm out to get his sleeve to roll up just to let everyone know that Stiles Stilinski means mother fucking _business_. Derek looked down at Stiles’ hand and silently asked God why he hates him so much. He cautiously curled his hand into Stiles’, being extra careful not to even meet his eye. Isn’t there some unsaid rule that if you make eye contact, it automatically becomes awkward (or more awkward than it already is)?

Stiles’ hand was oddly both soft and rough at the same time. His fingers were bony, his hands were sweaty and Derek had a hard time not thinking off all the odd things Stiles would come out with about his self-pleasure dates (“Two fingers are actually fucking _sore_!”, “School is taking up so much time I haven’t been able to give myself some Stiles-loving in _days_.”) It was inappropriate and kind of made Derek want to cry over the fact he wasn’t feeling entirely _repulsed_ by this. He had had _dinner_ with this boy’s father! He had sat on his couch, drinking beer and watching baseball with Sheriff Stilinski as an _enjoyable pass time_. Derek felt dirty all over.

“Hey!” Stiles snapped. “No need to look so emotionally, physically and _mentally_ constipated, okay? I’m not enjoying this whole gig either.”

“This is just my face, Stiles.” Derek grunted, talking a large step forward, tugging Stiles along forcefully with him. “If you don’t like, you shouldn’t have agreed to –“

“I didn’t agree to this for your _face_!” Stiles declared, although his cheeks had already begun to turn pink. “I agreed to this because I am a student living off cans of fruit, cheap chocolate and damn _minute noodles_. You are an incredibly wealthy man, and if fake-dating you means I get a few _properly cooked meals_ over the course of how-ever-long this’ll last, _then so be it_.” Stiles’ pace eventually matched Derek’s and his body slumped forwards, the slight blush spreading to the tips of his ears. “The fact that you are a _tiny_ bit good looking is just a bonus.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Let’s just get to the mall before it shuts and people can look at us.”

 

**

 

Pretending to laugh at everything Stiles said was not actually as hard as Derek had first anticipated.

His jokes were shit, his nervous babbling was _beyond frustrating_ , but the reaction he gave when every time a camera clicked or a person would gawk was probably the best thing Derek had seen in a long time. “ _Dude_.” Stiles breathed, yanking at Derek’s shirt. “I never realised how famous you _actually_ were!”

“I have been at quite a lot of red carpet events, I have been nominated for thirty awards, _won_ eleven and you are only _just_ getting how much of an actor I _really_ am?”

“Yeah, but I’ve always thought that they invited a few D-Listers to make them feel welcomed into the world of Hollywood, or gave them sympathy awards at award shows when they get three out of one _million_ votes.” Stiles blinked at a young girl as she stared at them, open-mouth, pointing her phone camera at the two of them. “Fuck, bro, we are going to be _all_ over Twitter, all day, all night. My class mates are going to fucking _flip_ _their_ _shit_.”

“The constant chirping of _dude_ I can handle, but the casual _bro_ is stepping way over the line.” Derek grumbled, tugging Stiles towards a milkshake stand (creatively titled _Bernard’s Milkshake Stand_ ). “Pick something. My treat.” Stiles’ eyes lit up and he bounced on the balls of his feet in excitement. The life of a college student had definitely changed since Derek was in Uni.

“Ah, _man_.” Stiles breathed in awe at his large array of possibilities. “Fuck, _dude_.”

“Can I get you two anything?” A small old man asked, hobbling over to the till. Derek could feel his heart melting inside.

“Uh, could I have a small strawberry milkshake?” Stiles asked eagerly.

“Make it two and make them large with whip cream.” Derek corrected with a small nod.

“Are you sure?” Stiles asked quietly as the man behind the counter got to work on their order. ”I’d be fine with a small –“

“It’s not like I’m short on the money, Stiles. I can scramble an extra few dollars together without going into debt, don’t worry about it.”

“I was wrong about this.” Stiles fessed quietly, toeing at the tiled floor. “I’m starting to think that you really will make a pretty cool fake boyfriend. You’re quite the romancer, Hale, I’ll give you that.”

Well, after that, how is Derek supposed to tell Stiles that he only gave him a large and whip cream because of the adorable old man running the stall?

“Uh, thanks, I think.” Derek muttered. The old man reached over the till, placing his hand palm up.

“Nine dollars fifty.”

“Oh, uh, two seconds.” Derek smiled, patting his right pocket for his wallet. “ _Damn_.” He stretched his arm around his back, feeling the bulk of leather with his fingertips. He had never regretted allowing Erica to buy him deep pocketed jeans this much in his life. He could probably grab it with his claws, but that could risk – another hand slipped gently into Derek’s pocket taking out his wallet easily.

“Wow.” Stiles muttered as the elderly man tutted impatiently. “Dude, you only have twenties in here. You wanna know how much I have in my wallet? Probably three coins, a paperclip, and IOU piece of card from Isaac that has been there since the beginning of College and no doubt a strand of red yarn.” Stiles balanced Derek’s wallet between their intertwined hands, looking at the roll of twenties in complete awe. “I think I’ve only seen this amount of cash together at once in the movies about bank robberies. God, man, it must be _so cool_ to be financially stable.”

“It’s alright, I guess.” Derek muttered. He could feel the tips of his ears burning. _Stiles’ hand was in his back pocket._ There were two sheets of fabric separating his hand from the skin of his ass. “Give him a twenty.” Stiles carefully picked out a twenty dollar note and handed it to the old man. “You can keep the change.” Derek grunted as the man lifted the milkshakes carefully onto the counter. Derek stuffed his wallet into an easily accessible pocket before grabbing his milkshake.

“Where to next, partner?” Stiles chirped after taking a large, happy amount of his milkshake, licking his lips appreciatively.

“Home.” Derek huffed, already on course to his car. Stiles skipped along quite happily oblivious to Derek’s foul mood – or maybe he isn’t oblivious, just incredibly familiar to Derek’s strops. The thought only seemed to make Derek angrier.

He managed to smile at most people who walked by, staring at them bug-eyed, but judging by the smell of slight fear that followed, it was maybe more like a snarl.

 

**

 

“Lovers!” Erica cheered. “Hello! Welcome back.” Erica smiled at them cheerily. Judging by her attitude, Derek assumed that they had succeeded Phase One. “Aw, cheer up, Der! Twitter, Facebook and all the other Social Media sites have been _buzzing_ about you two. No major magazines or tabloids have been talking _yet_. But they will. You two look simply _adorable_.” Erica clasped her hands together tightly, the overly cheery smile didn’t seem to be giving way for at _least_ another three hours. “Also, nice touch on the ass thing, I’ve seen that picture _every_ –“

“It wasn’t a _thing_.” Stiles said quickly. “I was getting his –“

“Uh-huh.” Erica said doubtfully. “If _that’s_ want you want to think, go ahead. But it looks _great_.” Stiles was pretty sure that his toes were blushing at this point, _damn_ Erica. Erica swung her arm over Stiles’ shoulders, pulling herself right into his personal bubble. “Everybody wants to know who you are, Stiles. They either want to _be_ you, or they want to kill you.  Welcome to the land of amateur stardom, my friend.”

“Wait, _kill me_? As in –“

“Leave you unbreathing? Rip out your internal organs and eat them for dinner? Bathe in every drop of your blood? Yep. Derek’s little fans are pretty into him. I mean, you kind of _have_ to be to put up with all this brood and eyebrows.” Erica motioned to Derek’s entire existence.

Derek found himself wondering why he chose to bite Erica of all people for the eleventh time that hour.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, Stiles. Poor, innocent Stiles Stilinski.” Erica cooed, pressing a hand to her chest sympathetically. “Nothing says Official like an Instagram post.”
> 
> “I’m pretty sure that I can think of a few other methods that are more –“
> 
> “Nothing.” Erica growled sending Stiles crawling further into the cushions of the sofa.

 “Phase One went down without _any_ complications. I am _beyond_ proud.” Erica praised. “But we don’t have the time to revel in our glory. Oh _no_. We have a career to save. And not just Derek’s, but _mines also_.” Stiles gave Derek the ‘ _wtf is she on?_ ’ look and Derek just shrugged. “The next step is –“

“I thought we’re going in Phase?” Stiles interjected. A muscle in Erica’s jaw irritably twitched.

“The next _Phase_ is to make it official.” Erica clicked _next_ on her PowerPoint.

_Phase Two – **Make the do OFFICIAL!!!!**_

Derek had never seen a PowerPoint look so much like Erica without having any human features in his life. “How are we doing this? Is there going to be some formal announcement at an intervention? What’s gonna happen?” Stiles asked curiously.

“Oh, Stiles. Poor, innocent Stiles Stilinski.” Erica cooed, pressing a hand to her chest sympathetically. “Nothing says Official like an Instagram post.”

“I’m _pretty_ sure that I can think of a few other methods that are more –“

“ _Nothing_.” Erica growled sending Stiles crawling further into the cushions of the sofa. “Obviously we can’t use Derek’s Instagram, considering it’s pictures of pretty things like mountains, window views, beaches and me. I mean the Pack.” Stiles’ eyebrows raised in obvious doubt. “I meant that _Pack_.” Erica said sternly. Derek was pretty sure that even Stiles’ human ears could hear the blip in Erica’s heart rate. “Anyway, so we’re going to use yours.” Stiles’ eyes bulged out of his head. Derek was seriously considering getting a bowl to catch them as Erica obviously has some other surprises along the course of their fake relationship.

“ _Mines_?” Stiles squeaked. “How does that even make any _sense_? How are his followers going to find that specific picture?”

“Oh, Stiles.” Erica sighed sympathetically. “Don’t underestimate the power of a fan, okay? They’ll find it, don’t you worry.”

 

**

 

Derek had never looked so damn miserable in his entire life. Derek had suffered more than his fair share of tragedies, but not _once_ has he looked this dull, depressed and disappointed. Stiles didn’t get it, he wasn’t _that_ bad. Sure, sometimes he had the tendency to over-share, or he was a bit to touchy-feely with his fellow Pack mates, and he sometimes drank straight from the carton, and he even sometimes picks tasty looking food from their plates, and if it didn’t taste nice he’d put it back, but Stiles is a _good person_. He’s saved each and every single one of their wolfy asses on more than one occasion. The least he deserves is a nice, genuine smile from Derek. Stiles isn’t holding a gun to his head, for crying out loud!

( _Yet_ , anyway)

“Come on, Derek.” Erica moaned, tipping her head back in frustration. “Smile!”

“This is me smiling.” Derek huffed, looking incredibly pained as he revealed his teeth.

“Oh, wow.” Stiles muttered, wriggling about to try and feel the slightest bit more comfortable while shirtless in front of a shirtless Derek Hale. There should be a serious law against that, it lowers a fragile man’s self-esteem to _dangerous_ levels. “If that’s you smiling, I’d hate to see you –“

“Sleep.” Erica demanded. Derek blinked up at her.

“ _What_?”

“Pretend to be asleep.” She elaborated. “We’re _obviously_ not going to get a genuine, happy smile from you. You look pained, like –“

“Like I was _forced_ to do this?” Derek asked innocently. Erica growled threateningly.

“Shut up.” She grunted. “Stiles is supposed to be the apple of your eye! The only light in your darkness! Your _muse_.” Derek looked at Stiles from the corner of his eye with a glare. “Your smile isn’t showing that. You know what else doesn’t portray emotion? _Sleeping_. Stiles looks _incredibly_ believable, so you just close your little eyes and let Stiles do all the work, okay?” Erica asked sweetly.

Derek refrained himself from doing anything childish (sticking his tongue out might have been playing on his mind, but you can’t prove it) and closed his eyes. “Now, _Stiles_.” Erica purred. If she had any ‘R’s, she would most definitely be rolling them.  “Press your cheek against Derek’s.”

“No thank you.” Stiles said quickly. Erica arched a perfect eyebrow.

“I wasn’t asking a question, I was giving an order.” Nothing moved for a few seconds, all that could be heard was the steady beating of Erica’s heart and Stiles’ not-so-steady beat. It was probably a silent debate, Erica probably flashed her teeth (they were probably too sharp to be called teeth, to blunt to be called fangs) and Stiles probably glared, desensitised to this method of werewolf persuasion that was used more than Derek would like to admit (usually by him, too). A creak in the floor board indicated that Erica had stepped forward and before Derek had the chance to open his eyes to see what she was up to, Stiles’ cheek was pressed forcefully against Derek’s. Stiles let out a sound of surprise. “Smile, boy, smile.” Erica crooned.

Stiles let his face go into one of his default emotions, a large smile sweeping over his features. Erica gleamed back at him, snapping a few pictures close up, a few steps back, with the flash, without the flash, tipping the camera at different angles just to get the perfect one.

There must have been at _least_ seventy photo’s.

And the worst part was that Stiles didn’t seem to mind a single bit.

 

**

 

Erica had alerted certain members of the Pack about an emergency Pack meeting. Certain members being Scott, Allison, Derek and Stiles. Boyd wasn’t in sight and Derek couldn’t catch any traces of a recent Boyd smelling scent, so something _had_ to be up. Something serious. Boyd and Erica had been attached at the hip since Erica shouted her feelings from a rooftop (quite literally) and not a day has went by since then that they haven’t been within fifty feet from each other. They’re so in sync it’s sickening.

The first thing Erica said upon entering the room was “You two are on profile picture duty” in a low snarl as she pelted Stiles’ phone full force at an unprepared Scott, who just had a split second to grab it before it smacked him hard on the nose. “We’re going to watch movies. So many movies that we will be sick of them all together. Derek, you and Stiles will be sitting _very_ up close and personal. Allison, Scott, it’s your job to take pictures of them. Make sure they’re adorable, crystal clear and don’t send any other message than ‘ _we’re boning_ ’, got it?”

“Uh, sure.” Scott said uneasily, glancing at Erica wearily.

“You two sit closer.” Erica instructed, flicking her fingers between Derek and Stiles. Stiles looked at Derek expectantly, considering he was on the two-seater sofa and Derek was on the armchair that could possibly just fit a toddler by Derek, considering the amount of room he was taking up. Derek lifted his eyebrows, the best possible silent counterargument. It took a few seconds to work as Stiles got to his feet with a dreadful, dragged out sigh. He shuffled his feet over to Derek and squeezed himself into the small space between Derek’s side and the leather arm of the armchair. Erica looked at them and gave Derek a small, encouraging smile. He sent a small one back with a nod. “The picture has already been posted, by the way. I expect it to be circling Twitter within the hour.” Erica crouched, picking up a pile of DVD’s, scanning over the titles. “We’re going to watch The Grinch.” Every single pair of eyes in the room fleeted to Erica. “It’s a good movie.” She defended.

“It’s also Summer.” Stiles said uneasily.

“Christmas has no expiration date.” Erica sniffed, slotting the disk into the player. Stiles nodded awkwardly, snuggling back into the corner of the armchair, looking rather uncomfortable. It was probably to do with how he was positioned, Derek knew first hand that where Stiles was sitting wasn’t a place to sit to get comfortable. He couldn’t bring himself to shift over slightly, Stiles would just have to endure it, Derek never asked him to do this.

 

**

 

Half way through the final scene, the Grinch’s heart had grown in size and Derek had laughed more than he ever had at that stupid film (or maybe it was Stiles reciting almost every line, word for word with stupid voices without a care in the word, completely oblivious to how stupid he sounded), Scott declared loudly that the profile picture had been taken. Erica had literally leaped from her sofa crease right over to Allison and Scott, cooing loudly. “Perfect!” She cried. “Derek looks _happy_.”

“Hilarious, Reyes.” Derek huffed dryly.

“Set it, set it.” Erica ushered, ignoring Derek all together. What was new. Scott’s fingers tapped the screen a few times and then it was official (well, as official as Instagram could possibly make it), he was dating Stiles Stilinski.

“Whoa, dude, you have like, _seventy new followers_.” Scott breathed. “You’re up there with Aniston, bro. I’m proud of you.” Stiles beamed at Scott.

Derek wondered if he was the only one in the room who could smell the slight tinge of Stiles’ fear with an underline of regret.

He probably was.

 

**

 

Erica was right, like she usually was about this type of thing. Twitter had most definitely become obsessed with who Derek’s new _mystery toy-boy_ really was. All they had to go by was some few odd Instagram pictures uploaded before this whole fiasco came about and that was that. The general public didn’t seem to care, though. It was enough. The pictures from that morning were re-surfaced (it was kind of crazy how quickly they were buried in the sand) and they were stuck together with little pieces of information that could be gathered from Stiles’ Instagram (his love of anything peanut butter, how unfortunately broke he was, what school he attends, that he’s known Derek for a while, judging by a few creeper pictures Stiles had jokingly uploaded without making Derek any wiser, and obviously, his undying friendship with Scott, which then linked to Allison, and then Lydia which obviously linked to Erica and by then it was full circle).

Lydia bustled in at around half eleven, looking unnaturally perfect as she had been out all day. Derek had never felt more confused, Erica had gone to look out Boyd, Stiles, Allison and Scott had went home almost an hour ago, Peter was… Peter was somewhere, Cora and Isaac were at a party so Derek was alone. Either she wasn’t aware at how late it was, and assumed Stiles or whoever she was looking for were still there, raiding Derek’s fridge.

“Nobody’s in but me.” Derek said. “They’re all either at their own home, looking for someone or at a party.” A slightly (who was Derek kidding, _incredibly_ ) terrifying smile slipped across Lydia’s face.

“Good , then.” She flounced over to the coffee table, snatched the TV remote from the surface and jabbed at the off button. “I think we need to have a little chat, don’t you?”

“If you’re here on behalf of Erica or Cora about a damn cat, then you can –“

“I don’t want a stupid Pack cat, Derek.” Lydia said with an eye roll that made Derek feel small. “I’m here to talk about Stiles.” Derek straightened up a little.

“Uh, okay?” Derek said slowly. “Is he alright? Is he having second thoughts? Because he can back out if he wants to, I don’t –“

“His emotions are perfectly intact.” Lydia sniffed, titling her head up slightly to look down at Derek through her lower lashes. “For now, at least.” Lydia lowered herself onto the coffee table, sitting on it delicately. “Everyone knows that when Stiles gets emotionally involved, it can only end terribly. People just can’t seem to… _handle_ Stiles. He loves with every fibre in his body, and that really shouldn’t be a bad thing. It means he’s loyal and that’s a good thing, considering the weird fascination with adultery this generation has.” Lydia cracked her knuckles in a way that should not have made Derek as scared and taken back as he was. “What I’m trying to say, Derek, is that if you break his heart, I will rip yours out your chest and slice it into individual pieces. _Don’t_ lead him on, Hale, or there won’t be enough werewolf powers in the _world_ to prepare you for what I’ll do to you.” Lydia stood up, brushing off the back of her jeans and breezed to the front door.

“But I – It’s _fake_!” Derek managed to splutter before she had completely left.

“But is it completely fake to Stiles?” Lydia asked just before the door slammed shut behind her. Derek stared at the space on the coffee table, where Lydia had sat, in confusion. He statement hung heavily in the air along with the lasting smell of her perfume.

“Oh, nephew.” Peter drawled, emerging from the top of the stairs. Derek flinched, just a fraction, but enough to make it noticeable to the human eye, had a human been there. Peter smirked. “Do you want me to give Stiles a stern talking to? I mean, it’s only fair –“

“Why are you even here?” Derek asked impatiently. “You live half way across town.”

“Is there anything so wrong about wanting to make sure my favourite nephew and niece are taking care of themselves?” Peter asked in mock reject. “You wound me, nephew O’mine.” Derek rolled his eyes, lifting himself up off the armchair.

“I’m going to bed, make sure you get Cora to lock the doors when she comes in, I’m assuming you won’t be leaving anytime soon.” Derek murmured, brushing past Peter as he trudged up the stairs.

“Is that an invitation to sleep over? ‘Cause I was going to anyway!” Peter called after him. Derek rolled his eyes. What did he do to get a family member like Peter?


End file.
